as of yet untitled
by Lauren Harper
Summary: GE. This story is very short as of yet but I would really appreciate feedback. Hope you enjoy.


Grace's fingers lightly grazed the cover of her book. She flipped through the pages, stopping to read a few poems but loosing interest quickly.   
  
It was raining; she could hear the soft patter of raindrops against her ceiling, a sound she usually delighted in. She loved the rain, and it's uncanny ability to make you face your feelings, to make you see things in a new light. She pulled back the curtain and watched as the water slid down the cool, smooth glass like liquid silver, following patterns along the window pane. Any other night she would have relished the rain, she would have curled up in a blanket and read a book, or even just lay down and let the gentle rhythm of the rain against the roof tops lull her to sleep. But tonight it had a different effect, and instead of calming her, the sight of rain on her window inspired a fury of emotions that swirled inside her.   
  
She sighed. She felt a wave of emotion wash over her, momentarily stopping her from breathing. Then she felt it. A single tear rolled down her right cheek. And with that small slip, a moment of accidentally letting down her guard, she let go all those emotions, freeing them from where she had carefully placed months before. She lost her composure, and for the first time in a long time, she let herself feel.   
  
Why did she keep on falling in love with guys who she could never have? Why had she allowed herself to feel anything for Mr. Dimitri, for Eli? Why did she always set herself up to get hurt? Grace sniffled as she stood up.   
  
Mr. Dimitri, what a disaster that had been. God, She thought, Why is it so hard. She hated being out of control, hated the feeling in her stomach right now, hated to be vulnerable. And so she had spent that last few months putting everything away, stuffing emotions into boxes, and filing things in her mind under their appropriate titles. And then she set decided, she was going to take control, make everything happen the way she thought it should. Hell, at least then she couldn't get hurt. Not. . ., she thought, not if she was the one calling the shots.   
  
What a rude awakening that had been. Why doesn't the world just listen when you tell it this is how things should be? And better yet why doesn't your heart? She had set out to turn her life around, to open up doors to the future, to experience, to live. And now. . now she found herself right back where she started with nothing to show for it, nothing but a lot of embarrassment and heartache. And one important pearl of wisdom, you can't make your heart feel something it doesn't and you can't replace people in your heart with others. It doesn't work that way. The heart wants what it wants, and that is a hard thing to change.   
  
She glanced in the mirror as she reached for a nightgown; her cheeks shone with tears, and she couldn't help but feel even more lonely.   
  
She undressed quickly, pulling the thin, white cotton nightgown over her head. Grace slipped downstairs and into the kitchen. She wished she had someone, another person, somebody who cared. But everyone was asleep.   
  
Grace's eyes moved to the light outside the kitchen window, coming from the garage. Call it an impulse, or temporary insanity, or call it fate, but she didn't bother to grab a coat or shoes, she simply pushed the door open and walked out into the rain. She walked slowly, her arms wrapped around herself, her tears mingling with the raindrops that fell onto her face.   
  
She knocked gently on the door, and waited when she heard footsteps inside. She couldn't help but think about how funny it was that she was standing there, here she was crying about being hurt, and the person who had hurt her, the person who had set this whole chain in motion was standing on the other side of the door. Here she was, standing in the rain, knowing full well she was setting herself up for another fall, and for some reason she couldn't move, she couldn't walk away. It was funny because no matter what, she always seemed to come back to him.  
  
Eli stumbled towards the door, trying to figure out who would be coming to his room at 3:00 in the morning. He reached for the doorknob groggily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the heel of his hand.   
  
Eli stopped when he saw her standing there; her white nightgown clung to her from the rain, making it transparent, her chestnut tresses hung down curling slightly from the moisture, her arms crossed around her as if she was protecting herself from something. She had been crying, he could tell, not from the wetness on her cheeks, but from her eyes, the way they looked at him, void and lonely.   
  
"Grace," he stepped forward and pulled her in the door. Eli was confused, he wasn't sure what was wrong with her but he had to admit it scared him. He looked into her usually warm and lively eyes and he saw a lot of hurt.   
  
"Stay here," he said darting into the bathroom for a towel. He took a step toward her, reaching out for her arm, and ran his hand across her cool slippery skin. She looked up and his eyes caught hers and he could see her eyes were warmer now, less empty. She smiled at him earnestly, the warmth of the contact lighting her eyes up again. He almost forgot the loneliness he saw there a few moments before. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at her. She was beautiful, the way her gown hugged her, the way her skin felt underneath his fingers, like silky rose petals. And most of all he loved the way she was looking at him, like he had done something. Like he mattered, like he was more that just a loser who lived in his family's garage.   
  
He ran the towel over her body, drying her off. He wrapped the towel around her shoulders and felt her shiver. He rubbed up an down her arms a few times, feeling goose bumps rise up on his own arms.   
  
Eli walked over to his drawer and fumbled around in it for a moment. He emerged holding a warm flannel button down shirt.   
  
"Here," he said, "put this on."   
  
"Thanks," Grace smiled gently.   
  
He watched her disappear into the bathroom, and fell back against his bed. These feelings are wrong, he thought, she was his step-sister. But he couldn't ignore the way she made him feel inside, like he could do anything, like he mattered, like he wasn't a complete failure.   
  
Eli heard the door crack open and he turned to look. He was pretty sure he stopped breathing. His eyes started at her feet, and then wandered up her body memorizing every inch of her, the soft pink nail polish on her toes, the silky smooth skin of her legs that made him want to reach out and touch them, The way his shirt seemed fit her perfectly, stopping just before her knees. He took in the gentle slope of her breasts, the way her wet tendrils fell into her face, and finally he meet her eyes. And he could feel his heart break, he didn't deserve her, and he didn't deserve for her to look at him like that.   
  
She walked toward him, and he saw a single tear trickle down her cheek, and he reached out to brush it away.   
  
"what's the matter?" he whispered  
  
She shook her head, "I'm just, so lonely." She said quietly, her voice breaking. It hurt him to hear those words, to see her like this. There was a slight pause, as he pondered what to say next.   
  
"What can I do?" he asked.  
  
"Could you. . . could you just hold me."  
  
He nodded his head and guided her back towards the bed, placing her next to him and wrapping his arms around her. He rested her head against his shoulder and gently stroked her hair. His lips pressed against her ear, and he whispered "shh, everything is going to be alright."  
  
She closed her eyes and let the sound of Eli's voice lull her to sleep. He kissed her forehead lightly, and he lay there watching her sleep. He had to admit, he liked this feeling, of having her in his arms. It made him feel kind of. . . complete.   
  
Grace's eyes fluttered open and smiled as she felt a warm arm wrap around her waist. She couldn't help but feel content.   
  
Grace rested her head against Eli's shoulder, closed her eyes and smiled. After a few moments of laying like this, she shifted so that she could meet his eyes.   
  
"Morning," he said looking down at her, the side of his mouth lifting up into a smile.  
  
"Morning," she said sheepishly. She sat up and glanced at the clock next to Eli's bed. "7;30," she said quietly, "I better get back inside before anybody gets up."  
  
She slowly slid out of the warmth of Eli's bed, and rested her feet against the floor, stretching a little before rose. She looked down at Eli, still lying there in bed, with tousled hair and a half smile and she couldn't help but be mesmerized by him. She leaned down and whispered, "Thank you, for everything."  
  
"Your welcome," he said, his hand gently brushing back the hair that had fallen into her face. He kissed her forehead softly. She turned toward the door before looking down and realizing she was still in his shirt.   
  
"Um. . . Do you want. . . I mean I could change?" she said pointing toward the shirt.  
  
"No," he said, "keep it."   
  
"Thank you," she whispered, as she pushed the door open and stepped outside into the cool morning.   
  
Grace felt like an angel. She smiled and slid deeper into the bubbles. They reminded her of sleeping in a cloud. She leaned her head back against the tile of the bathroom wall and closed her eyes.   
  
This morning had been a little strange. She knew she had fallen in love with Eli once but was it possible she was still in love with him? That all through Mr Dimitri, and throughout this quest for life and experience she had been on, that she had never stopped loving Eli?   
  
She had tried to deny it, to pass off these feelings as something less. That is all she had done from the first moment that she realized Eli meant something to her. But she couldn't help but notice how every time she was hurt, or disappointed, or even just lonely she found him. Maybe she loved him, but it didn't matter because she knew he could never feel the same.  
  



End file.
